


Experimentations on Responses to Different Forms of Affection

by navalier



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: (...gideon is making implications not the author), Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Literal Sleeping Together, Making Out, Nicknames, Not Canon Compliant, POV Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Size Difference, Touch-Starved, awkward teenage attempts at affection, harrow definitely has anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28678443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navalier/pseuds/navalier
Summary: Harrow finds Gideon's comic about love languages and decides she needs to conduct some experiments. For science purposes.(Sequel toLove Languages! You don't have to read the first one at all - just a couple little things might not make sense)
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 22
Kudos: 137





	Experimentations on Responses to Different Forms of Affection

**Author's Note:**

> [Link to the first fic (Gideon's version) for anyone who wants to read that!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26149645)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus did not exactly pride herself on being attuned to the wants and needs of others. Her duties as Reverend Daughter (which were nothing to scoff at in themselves) and obsessive need to become the greatest necromancer of her generation took precedence over all else, including paying attention to the subtleties of romantic interactions.

Fortunately for Harrow, she was dating the least subtle human being in the galaxy.

“Morning, my sepulcherous sovereign!” boomed Gideon, bursting into Harrow’s room with the telltale cacophony of clanging metal, stomping boots, and thunderously obvious expressions. Gideon flopped onto Harrow’s bed without a second’s thought, sprawling like a carelessly thrown vestment and dumping armfuls of comic books everywhere. “How’s it hangin’, bangin’?”

Harrow, used to this behavior at this point, barely glanced up from her books. “Sepulcherous isn’t a word.”

“Words are stupid. I’m beyond following their nonsensical rules.”

With a small smile, Harrow replied, “We all know you’ve never been one to follow anyone else’s rules, Griddle.”

“Trueeeeee.” Gideon grinned and opened a comic that had been splayed across her stomach moments before. “So what are we up to today? The usual?”

Harrow nodded. “Let me know if you need anything?”

“I always do!”

This had been their routine for the past few weeks, ever since Gideon had discovered that Harrow actually liked it when they sat together in Harrow’s room, each focused on their own task but occasionally interacting when something notable happened. Gideon usually polished her sword or read comics, but sometimes she would get bored and start doing push-ups. Harrow would never admit how good it felt to just _exist_ alongside another person, especially someone who brightened up the gloomy solitude of Drearburh’s stony halls as much as only Gideon Nav could. After a few hours Gideon would get up, ask for a hug or kiss (or occasionally attempt to give Harrow an inexplicable noogie), collect her belongings, and leave the room, abandoning Harrow to the empty silence before the afternoon service.

This was exactly the routine Gideon followed today, with one notable exception: This time she left several comic books behind. Half-annoyed, half-amused, Harrow began to gather the comics into a neat pile so they could be returned to their rightful owner, praying silently that none of them were embarrassingly dirty enough to make Harrow uncomfortable. Surprisingly, most of the comics were full of writing – one headline in particular caught Harrow’s eye. In bright yellow words across the cover of the comic, an enticing header blared: “LOVE LANGUAGE GUIDE: WHAT YOU CAN DO TO MAKE HER LOVE YOU FOREVER.”

Surely it couldn’t hurt to see what nonsense Gideon had decided could pass for relationship advice? At the very least it would give Harrow some additional insight into whatever was going on in Gideon’s sword-obsessed mind.

Skimming the article surely couldn’t hurt.

To Harrow’s utter surprise, the piece was very informative. How was she supposed to know that different people expressed affection in various preferred and non-preferred ways? Of course, her and Gideon had fallen into a rhythm where they spent plenty of time together, and Harrow couldn’t imagine wanting anyone to ever shower her in compliments or “words of affirmation,” but what if Harrow was completely missing the mark on whatever Gideon’s “love language” was? What if Gideon wanted compliments, or to be brought things, or to be doing more _together_ instead of just adjacent to each other?

Harrow certainly wouldn’t let one silly comic tell her she was bad at relationships, but she had to admit this article had given her something to think about. She decided that experimentation would be the best course of action. If Gideon was unsatisfied in the ways Harrow showed affection, surely Harrow would be able to figure it out by trying a host of different strategies. Harrow snorted to herself – it wasn’t like Gideon was just going to come out and tell her “this is my love language, please do x, y, and z to make me happy.”

No. Experimentation would be the best course of action. And Harrow would start as soon as possible.

**I. RECEIVING GIFTS**

The most logical thing to do was start with the basics.

Harrow knew that Gideon enjoyed… _things_. In fact, Gideon had always been a little bit of a hoarder – as a child, the nuns had often fought with her about the sheer amount of junk Gideon kept crammed in every possible nook and cranny of her cell. To this day, Harrow knew about the scraps of flimsy stuffed between the stones, piles of comics under the bed, knickknacks from God-knew-where crammed on the windowsill and under the mattress. Gideon collected _everything_.

Finding a gift that Gideon would truly like was slightly more difficult than Harrow expected. The ancient halls of Drearburh were not exactly well-stocked with items that a loudmouthed, sword-wielding young adult with a raunchy sense of humor and ridiculous obsession with her own biceps would enjoy. Harrow scoured the armory first, of course, but quickly gave up on that when she realized that Gideon knew the place much better than Harrow did, and it would be stupid to give Gideon something from a place she frequented so often anyway. The sanctuary was equally useless, as was the kitchen, crypt, and her own chambers. In the end, Harrow decided the most likely place she could find Gideon a decent gift would be the last place Gideon would ever think to look: the library.

Occasionally admonishing herself for getting distracted, Harrow sifted through the shelves of ancient tomes and flimsy stacks with barely suppressed glee. It was more difficult than she expected to remember that she was here for a specific reason, especially because that reason was _Gideon_. Harrow found something suitable and (burdened with several additional tomes for her own research) left the library.

“Griddle.” Harrow said it gently, quietly, but the other girl jumped out of her skin all the same.

“Cohort on a cracker, don’t _do_ that!” Gideon clutched her chest dramatically, leaning on her sword like it was the final thing grounding her to reality.

“You’re very skittish for someone holding a weapon,” Harrow said loftily, searching for a place to sit in the open space of the training room. Somehow sitting would make this interaction less awkward, she was sure, if only to make her feel as if dignity were still in her possession.

“Yeah, well, I was in the _zone_ ,” Gideon slung her sword across her back and wiped her sweaty brow with the bottom of her shirt. Harrow pointedly ignored the flash of golden skin that passed as one of Gideon’s desperate cries for attention these days. “What’s up? Pretty unlike you to grace the hallowed chambers of my training arena, my Holy Honcho. Not that I’m complaining. Wanna see my new guard idea? It’s like a roof guard meets the fool’s guard, which I think is pretty cool but I _know_ Aiglamene is gonna hate it so much—"

“No,” Harrow said curtly, wisely refraining from making a joke about the “fool’s guard” she was already watching. It was low-hanging fruit and she was here for a reason. “I have something for you.”

At this revelation, Gideon planted herself heavily against a nearby wall and crossed her arms, a universally recognized posture of distrust that Harrow knew only too well. Gideon narrowed her eyes. “Like what?”

“Nothing you’ll hate, I can promise you.”

“Exactly what someone about to give me something I’ll hate would say.”

“Do you really still have so little trust for me?” Harrow said quietly, trying not to show that this idea was genuinely hurtful to her. “We are… coupled, now.”

“ _COUPLED?!”_ Gideon made the most dramatic gagging noise Harrow had ever heard. “Fucking hell, Harrow. We’re girlfriends, you can say it. And just because I’ve got a bangin’ bod that you are now lucky enough to potentially bang now, doesn’t mean you’re suddenly the epitome of trustworthiness.”

Harrow pursed her lips. “Fine. Then I suppose you can consider this one of many steps on the path to trustworthiness between us.” Without waiting for Gideon’s (no doubt inane) response, Harrow silently held out the book.

Instead of sneering, or making a cutting remark, or throwing the book across the room after doing both, Gideon’s face lit up in a huge smile. It was more disconcerting than Harrow was willing to admit. “Is this for me?” Gideon boomed excitedly, snatching the book out of Harrow’s hands and immediately flipping through dozens of pages without pausing to read a single one.

“I did say I had something for _you_ ,” Harrow scoffed, feeling warmth bloom slightly on the tips of her ears. She prayed her earrings and hair would obscure this small detail from Gideon, but turned out she didn’t need to worry about that, as Gideon was still ravenously flipping through the book. “It’s meant to be _read_ , you know. One page at a time. With understanding.”

“I know how books work!... in theory.” Gideon laughed at her own idiotic joke. “Harrow, is this book about _swords_?!”

“It is an ancient tractate on the various swords used by Ninth House cavaliers of old.” Harrow recited. “So, yes.”

“Fuck, this is dope!” Gideon exclaimed, continuing to flip through the pages like an illiterate heathen. “Thank you!”

“I guarantee you’ll enjoy it more if you read it instead of simply flipping the pages.”

“It’s my gift, I can do what I want with it.”

“Technically true. Enjoy.”

Gideon suddenly moved closer to Harrow and, with enough of a pause to just barely be considered a warning, bubbled, “I’m gonna hug the shit out of you now,” before grabbing Harrow around the waist and entrapping her in a hug so aggressive it could barely be considered a show of affection.

“Ugh, control yourself you lug. And next time take that sword off.”

“Next time!” Gideon crowed. Before Harrow could stop her, she was squeezing even more tightly.

**II. QUALITY TIME**

After the book incident (as Harrow was likely to call it in her own head… saying “experimenting on Gideon’s love language preferences with giving gifts” was both disgustingly long and painfully boorish), Harrow felt confident that she had gauged Gideon correctly. Of course she loved receiving gifts – Gideon was so starved for approval that even the simplest gesture of appreciation went a long way. Satisfied that it had taken her so little time to discover Gideon’s love language, Harrow fell back into their normal routine and vowed to leave what was written in that silly comic far behind. With the notable exception of finding Gideon the occasional gift to keep her happy.

Despite Harrow’s self-serving vow to forget the comic, the love languages idea continued to haunt her. Every day Gideon came to Harrow’s chambers and sat quietly entertaining herself nearby while Harrow studied. Every day Gideon sat happily in Harrow’s space, robbing herself of additional time that she normally spent swinging her sword around, because Harrow’s chambers were not suited to the activity that Gideon preferred. This thought (as ridiculous as it was – Gideon was her own person fully capable of deciding to swing her sword around instead of sit in Harrow’s gloomy company) continued to pursue her and seemed to grow ever more persistent by the day.

Eventually Harrow’s own guilt about this potential failure got the better of her. She decided to continue with her experimentation… just to be _completely_ sure she was right about Gideon’s “love language.” How embarrassing would it be for _Gideon Nav_ , of all people, to understand Harrow, and Harrow not to return the favor?

“Gideon?”

“’Sup, babe?”

Harrow rolled her eyes, momentarily forgetting that she was trying to be less openly disdainful of Gideon’s… Gideon-ness. “Studying with you in my room is nice. Very nice. But would you ever want to… hang out somewhere else?”

Gideon’s entire face erupted into a mask of glee. The pit of anxiety in Harrow’s stomach became an angry mass of despair and dropped into her feet. She had been wrong. Gideon liked gifts, but clearly spending time together was truly her love language.

“Somewhere else like… the training room?”

“If that’s where you want to go.”

Gideon leapt to her feet, scattering rags and polish all over Harrow’s floor. “Will you watch me train? With my sword and everything?”

The desperate excitement in Gideon’s voice was almost pathetic. “Is that what you want to do?”

“Always!” Gideon practically sprinted across the room and was halfway out the door before Harrow could say another word. Suddenly she poked her head back into Harrow’s chamber and Harrow was somewhat surprised to see that Gideon’s face was crumpled into a worried frown. “Wait… were you messing with me?”

Oh. _Now_ this was truly pathetic. “No, Griddle.” Harrow said gently. “We spend all our time here in my rooms, doing what I want to do. I—I guess I realized it wasn’t entirely fair. That you don’t get to do what you want to do sometimes.”

Gideon was back in the room and hoisting Harrow into an antagonistic hug within a nanosecond. “O Holy One, you _do_ care about me!”

Harrow snorted. “Of course I do, you buffoon. We’re… girlfriends. Now put me down and lead me to those training rooms. I’m not entirely sure I know where they are.”

“Let me change my trousers first.” Gideon said with an inexplicable smirk.

“Why do you—?”

“Because I totally just came.”

“Disgusting, Nav.”

“Not my fault when you say sexy things like, ‘Oh Gideon, my foxy _girlfriend_ , please let me watch you work out all your big hot muscles while you do cool things with your big hot sword.’ Didn’t think you’d be into dirty talk, Harrow, but turns out you’re pretty good at it!”

“I didn’t say a single one of those words.”

Gideon continued dragging Harrow down the corridor by the hand, making a dismissive gesture with her free arm. “Bullshit, you totally said ‘girlfriend.’ I filled in the rest for you, but I know that’s what you were thinking.”

Harrow couldn’t prevent the eyeroll this time. But she did smile, just a little, at Gideon’s ridiculousness.

“Also you definitely know where the training rooms are, you found me there like three days ago to give me that sick ass book about swords.”

Harrow cursed inwardly. Judging by Gideon’s elated reaction to both the gift and the suggestion of additional quality time, this whole “love languages” experiment might be more difficult than she had originally planned. She would need to test out the other theories after all.

**III. PHYSICAL TOUCH**

Harrow decided to try physical touch next – mainly because it was likely to be the most awkward. Gideon was always grabbing Harrow for hugs and asking to kiss her and still weirdly attempting to give her noogies all the time (no amount of constructs could deter this behavior so far), but Harrow had never initiated the contact before. It was a daunting task, and not only because Gideon was so… Gideon.

No one had ever taught Harrow how to touch others correctly. Her parents’ physical attention began and ended at teaching her how to paint her ceremonial makeup. The nuns had cared for her as a child until she was able to take care of her physical needs independently, and that had ended years ago. In fact, Gideon was the only person who had intentionally touched Harrow in quite a long time. Harrow didn’t mind when Gideon touched her (noogies being the obvious exception), but she also didn’t mind going years untouched.

With this and Gideon’s tendency for aggression in mind, Harrow decided it would be best to keep the physical touch experiment simple.

Of course, Gideon Nav was incapable of simplicity.

Harrow started with Gideon’s hair. Harrow would never admit it aloud, but she was obsessed with Gideon’s hair. It had always been an anomaly – that burst of flame shimmering enticingly among the blacks and greys that draped around the rest of Drearburh. When she was small, Harrow had sometimes glared at her own dark locks in the mirror and thought of Gideon’s with something she would never admit was jealousy. Now that Gideon’s hair was fully accessible, Harrow decided she would use this fascination in her experiment.

“Harrow! Did you see that? Totally nailed that riposte combo, and no it’s not because your constructs are just stupid skeletons – it actually was a good riposte. Were you watching?”

“Very impressive.” Harrow said with a tight smile. Gideon grinned as she stepped away from the newly made pile of bone dust and toward Harrow, wiping sweat from her face and smearing dust everywhere in the process. “Here, let me.” Harrow had to stand on the tips of her toes as she reached for Gideon’s forehead. Gideon froze, her face betraying a glimpse of discomfort that filled Harrow with a tinge of guilt. She kept her fingers light as they brushed a lock of sweaty hair off Gideon’s forehead.

Gideon’s face went from nervous to shocked faster than the time it normally took Harrow to create a fully formed skeleton. “Whaaaaa--?” Gideon said intelligently.

“You had hair on your face. I was helping.”

Gideon blinked several times. Then smiled mischievously. And shook her hair back into her face.

Harrow snarled. “If you didn’t want me to fix your hair you could have just said something.” She turned to storm off.

“What—No!” Gideon called desperately, grabbing Harrow by the wrist to stop her from leaving. “I wanted you to do it again, you idiot!”

Interesting, but ultimately unhelpful for Harrow’s experiment. She shook Gideon’s hand off and continued to walk away, too embarrassed to continue the conversation.

* * *

Unfortunately, extremely unfortunately, the first attempt at gauging Gideon’s reaction to physical touch had been ruined by Gideon’s constant need to take nothing seriously. As a result, Harrow was forced to initiate more touch.

She decided to make the next attempt unconditionally clear.

“…97… 98… 99…. 100!” Gideon crowed, leaping to her feet excitedly. “Told you I could do 100 push-ups no problem. Gotta stay swol so I can pick up my smol, you know how it is.”

Harrow walked over from where she had been sitting and placed a hand gently on Gideon’s shoulder, stretching slightly to reach. Her fingers tingled awkwardly against the warmth of Gideon’s slightly sweaty skin, as if every freckle had come to life and was attempting to push Harrow’s hand away. “I am happy to be your… smol.”

Gideon’s jaw dropped. She stared at Harrow’s hand like it had been placed there by the Emperor Undying Himself. “What… is happening here?”

“Nothing, forget it.” Harrow’s entire body seemed to blush, the horror of her mistake flooding her system just in case her brain didn’t get the message: _this was bad_. Without another word she ran out of the room.

* * *

In terms of the experiment, that should have been the end of physical touch. But as Harrow herself had noted previously, Gideon was not one to follow anyone else’s rules, so the word “should” was out the window. In her attempt to purge the entire hand-on-shoulder incident from existence, Harrow had not been back to the training room since. Which meant her and Gideon were back to their usual routine of doing separate tasks in Harrow’s chambers.

At least, it _had_ been their usual routine. Until Gideon glanced up from whatever comic she had been looking at and said, “Harrow, will you… sit next to me?”

Harrow did not look up from the tome she was studying, already suspicious of where this was going. “On the bed? I don’t think so.”

“Not in a sexy way!” Gideon whined. “Trust me, if I was trying to seduce you, you’d _know_ it.”

“I have no doubts about that.” She could practically feel the smirk sliding over Gidoen’s face.

“I just want to be near you. We’re both reading, why can’t we do it like… closer to each other?”

Despite the absurdity of the request, Harrow had to admire Gideon’s nerve. She had always admired Gideon’s nerve. And if this was what Gideon wanted… there was no way to humiliate herself with a wrong move, was there? And if at any point Gideon crossed a line, it was Harrow’s room – she could very easily kick Gideon out and never look at her again. All in all, the request was surprisingly… safe.

“Fine.” Harrow said, hoping she sounded like she was entertaining a particularly annoying idea. “But if you make a single wrong move, I reserve the right to send you away immediately and possibly never talk to you again.”

“Swear to the Tomb, I won’t do anything sexy. Well, intentionally anyway.”

Satisfied with this response, Harrow picked up her book and sat beside Gideon on the bed. They were a span apart, half the length of an average radius shaft, and still it felt to Harrow as if Gideon was pressing against her. She could feel a prickling pressure on the side of her thigh, the ghost of a touch that had never even happened. True to her word, Gideon did not change her position in any way or make a single suggestive comment. The two of them sat together on Harrow’s bed, reading separately and not daring to look at each other.

Harrow had no idea why she did it, all things considered. There was no justification, no thought process that could explain the action even to herself. But at some point Harrow found that she had moved her knee so that it was touching Gideon’s. Gently, softly, they sat with that single point of contact and continued to read. A small bubble of pride floated in Harrow’s chest as Gideon stayed in the position, not withdrawing or making a mockery of Harrow’s tiny risk. It was illogical and absurd, but somehow touching Gideon’s knee with her own gave Harrow a thrill equivalent to necromantic discovery.

“Harrow,” Gideon said, so quietly it didn’t even sound like Gideon. “can I— um, fuck I don’t know how to ask this. Uhhh… I wanna put my head on your lap. It’s okay if not, this is nice—”

“Yes,” Harrow replied before she could stop herself. Gideon breathed an audible sigh of relief. Moving as though the bed were covered in a hundred cups of water, Gideon meticulously scooted so she was laying on her side, her cheek pressed carefully against the top of Harrow’s thigh, the rest of her enormous body curled securely against itself. Gideon sighed again and the tightness of her muscles seemed to melt.

The look of pure relaxation on Gideon’s face was the only thing keeping Harrow from fully panicking. Instead, Harrow returned to her book, aware of but ignoring the buzz of pleasure that hummed through her system at the feel of Gideon’s warm cheek squashed against her leg. Ten minutes later, Gideon was snoring peacefully, oblivious to the world. Looking furtively around the room to ensure no one could possibly be watching them, Harrow ghosted her fingers through Gideon’s scorching hair, revering how calm the world was in that moment.

And if the two of them stayed like that, books and comics abandoned and enjoying a moment of calm together for many, many more moments – no one else had to know.

**IV. ACTS OF SERVICE**

For the purposes of the experiment, Harrow was decidedly unsure if what had happened on her bed (by the Emperor, _that_ string of words would never enter her head again) technically counted as “physical touch” or an act of service, since it had been something Gideon asked for explicitly. Harrow determined it was better to be safe and conduct the experiment as thoroughly as possible, so she would need to do a separate attempt for acts of service.

According to the article in the comic, acts of service included things that were helpful and appreciated. Since Harrow didn’t actually know what Gideon did most of the day, or what she was required to do as a citizen of the Ninth House, this was likely to be more complex than it seemed. Harrow briefly considered saying, “the fact that I don’t require you to attend Ninth services, even though skipping them could easily be construed as heresy, is in itself is an act of service to you. You’re welcome.” but that sounded cruel and snobbish even in Harrow’s own head.

Ultimately, Harrow stole Gideon’s original idea for acts of service.

The first time Harrow brought a container of grey porridge to the training room Gideon yelped in delight, ate it so quickly Harrow was worried she would drown herself by accident, and yelled words of praise and thanks around each mouthful.

The second time Harrow brought porridge, Gideon did the exact same thing – possibly with even more gusto.

After the third time it happened, Harrow concluded that Gideon mainly cared about eating as much food as physically possible in the shortest amount of time, human constraints be damned, and did not actually care much for acts of service. In fact, when Harrow had asked if Gideon needed help with anything, Gideon had stopped stuffing her face for a solid twenty seconds in order to laugh Harrow out of the room.

“Acts of service” was not her love language. But it was possible that grey porridge was. Harrow kept this note in the back of her mind for later, just in case.

**V. WORDS OF AFFIRMATION**

Harrow cursed herself. Why had she saved the worst experiment for last? She couldn’t picture herself saying any of the corny, overwrought, probably insincere things the comic had suggested as “words of affirmation” to anyone this side of Dominicus, let alone Gideon Nav. Girlfriend or not, it just seemed… awkward. And unnecessary.

But she was not the type of person to back away from a challenge, and she certainly wasn’t the type of person who stopped the scientific process partway through. So she steeled herself and broke the comfortable silence between them as Harrow and Gideon sat in her room as usual.

“Nav.”

“Yooooo!” Gideon looked up from her comic excitedly, as if happy to have a break from the monotony of… breasts, or whatever.

“I want you to know that I… feel, uh, lucky to have you.”

Gideon, the absolute demon, snorted derisively. “Duh, I’m a delight.”

“I’m not messing with you. I mean it.”

At that, Gideon’s eyes lit up and she grinned so widely Harrow was concerned her mouth would break her dumb, unpainted face. “AWW. Cool. Thanks, babe.”

Results inconclusive.

“How many times have we talked about you calling me—” Harrow interrupted herself. _Results inconclusive._ She had more work to do. “I mean, you are a… nice human. Who I enjoy.”

Gideon laughed lightly and beamed again. “I enjoy you too, O Ethereal Empress of the Night.”

This was going badly. Harrow got desperate. She quickly attempted to recall one of the specific phrases that had been suggested in the comic, and unfortunately blurted the first one that came to mind: “You look amazing is that a new outfit?”

Divine Highness strike her down now, Harrow wanted to sink into the bottomless depths of Drearburh and never come back. Gideon was looking at her quizzically, now clearly suspicious. “…no? I haven’t gotten new clothes since I turned 16, you know that. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Harrow mumbled, turning quickly back to her book.

“You’re being weird.”

“No, you’re being weird.”

“Not very _affirming_ of you, Nonagesimus.”

Harrow couldn’t help it. She gasped. Angry at herself, she hoped Gideon hadn’t heard.

“Yeah, I know what you’re up to, you awkward little nunlet.” Gideon smirked, her giant stupid face suddenly swimming in Harrow’s vision instead of the words on her page. “ _You’re_ trying to figure out my love language.”

“What kind of ridiculous—”

“Pfft. Come on, Harrow. I spent _weeks_ reading that article. Obviously I have the suggestions for ‘words of affirmation’ basically memorized. Also you’re being a total freak these days. Either Ortus finally figured out how to turn you into a super skittish and surprisingly thoughtful meat puppet, or you’re trying to be a better girlfriend.”

Harrow very seriously considered admitting she was Ortus’ puppet. Anything was better than telling Gideon she had read one of her disgusting skin mags and, even worse, followed its advice. Harrow peeled her eyes from her book and stared directly at Gideon, glaring right into her gross, unearthly golden eyes. “Have you considered that neither of those things are true?”

“Nah, I’m totally right.” Gideon smirked and (blessedly) backed off to flop on Harrow’s bed. “What’s the verdict, then? You must have tried them all by now. What’s my love language, according to your scientific assessment?”

Harrow pursed her lips. She could come clean now and be done with it within a few days – Gideon’s attention span rarely lasted longer. Or she could continue the ruse, pretend Gideon knew nothing as usual, and move on with their lives.

“I’m unsure.”

Foolish, impulsive, corruptible Harrow. The betrayal of her mouth to her brain was the worst kind. Sure enough, Gideon cackled with triumphant laughter. “I knew it! I knew you read that comic! All the porridge, and I seriously almost lost it when you touched me on the shoulder. I thought I was bad at this but man, you are _terrible_ Harrow.”

Harrow hissed and quickly turned back to her book, shaking with rage. How dare Gideon call her terrible? She was trying to be better, she had put herself out there and risked her own pride and what did she get? Derision from an idiot swordjock who couldn’t detect a hint of thanergy if it danced under her unpainted nose? No, Harrow was better than this, she was better than—

“Harrow.” Gideon said quietly, suddenly kneeling at the desk right beside her. Harrow ignored her, though she was surprised to hear the softness in Gideon’s voice. “Hey – uh, sorry. I didn’t mean you’re terrible. I mean, you’re terrible at some things definitely, but you’re not a terrible girlfriend, like, _at all_. Sorry. I’m still not used to, uh… being nice to you all the time.”

That made Harrow look at her. Gideon’s face was scrunched and worried, a tiny furrow marred the middle of her forehead. “You’re also terrible at things. But not a terrible girlfriend.”

Gideon’s face lit up. “That was the best attempt at words of affirmation we’ve seen from you yet!”

“Shut up, Nav.”

“Yeah, alright I also can’t do words of affirmation. They’re objectively stupid, just like all words.”

“Maybe not _all_ words.”

“Harrow, if this is your invitation to try dirty talk I swear to _God_ —”

“NO!” Harrow practically yelled, leaping to her feet. Gideon stood too, yet another sly smile on her face. “Not everything is about sex, Gideon. I meant I actually would like to know what your love language is, if you know it.”

With a scoff, Gideon moved closer to Harrow, who fought not to take a step back. “Seriously? It’s so obvious. Well, it would be if you were paying attention. It’s physical touch – DUH.”

Actually, that made a lot of sense. Harrow had just been so anxious about the idea of touching Gideon romantically instead of violently that she hadn’t actually been paying much attention to what Gideon was doing. “Oh,” she said stupidly. “Of course. The— on my bed—”

“Duh.” Gideon said again, but her eyes shone happily and she was grinning. “Also I’m like, _always_ asking you for hugs and stuff. You really didn’t need to do all this experimentation shit.”

“If you knew I was doing it all along, why didn’t you stop me?”

“Come on, Harrow, you’re smarter than that,” Gideon chuckled. “Because it was hilarious to watch, obviously. Also hearing you compliment my outfit was— whew, chef’s kiss!”

“You’re a monster. An infuriating, immature monster.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gideon pulled Harrow in for one of the tight, all-encompassing hugs Harrow was slowly becoming familiar with. “Can we make out now? You know that’s _both_ of our love languages, right? You get to spend quality time with—” she gestured dramatically at her body “—all of _this_ gloriousness, and I get to spend some quality time with _dat ass_. Or lips. Or whatever. Like, physically.”

Harrow sighed. Being Gideon Nav’s girlfriend included no small amount of suffering. Suffering – along with humiliation, juvenility, annoyance, emotional labor, absurdity, laughter, and… thoughtfulness. Yes, Gideon was an overgrown child. But she was also—

“Yo!” Gideon’s yell interrupted the rest of Harrow’s thought. “Looking for some consent, here, space cadet.”

“Your impatience knows no bounds,” Harrow said, but there was no coldness in her tone. “but yes, I would like to make out with you.”

“Awesome.” Gideon surged forward with a barking exultation and pulled Harrow against her, one hand around her waist and the other at Harrow’s chin, coaxing her jaw into the best angle for Gideon’s lips to meet Harrow’s. Gideon was a crashing wave of teeth and tongue and hands that made Harrow’s mind go blank with buzzing, simple joy. For once, she was happy not to have to think about much. She was cheerfully caught in Gideon’s orbit, and Gideon was more than willing to take over and do the thinking for both of them.

Gideon broke away for a moment, pausing to grin dazzlingly down at Harrow. “See? Win/win.”

_Maybe this awful experiment had been worth it after all_ , she thought, as Gideon gripped her waist even more tightly and crashed their lips together once more. Harrow smiled and put her hands on Gideon’s cheeks, holding their faces firmly together. She was rewarded with a happy groan that seemed to start in Gideon’s throat and travel all the way down to Harrow’s toes.

Completely worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! extra helping of thanks to @shorterusername for commenting this idea on the original fic and inspiring me to write this one ♥ if you want something written about this awkward idiot teens drop a comment too, I love them more than camilla hect loves piercing glares (that's a lot, I have to assume)


End file.
